Title: Love. Bonds.

Author/Artist: Lynn Stardragon, the Happy Dragon (Is me XD)

Character(s) or Pairing(s): Sweden x Finland, others mentioned, but not featured so they gets no love (here)!

Rating: NC-17! NSFW (Not safe for work, because who wants their boss reading fluffy p0rNz over their shoulder?)

Warnings: Smex in all it's scandinavian goodness. And excessive fluff. Also, Sweden does speak, but I included translations after the more difficult things.

Summary: . . . The Hetaila kink meme got me. And then there was this prompt/plot-bunny that leaped at me and latched onto my jugular harder than Ivan's lips on the opening of a bottle of Vodka.

|Prompt| "SwedenxFinland; Finland being taken for the first time (in both senses of the word) after the Swedish crusades. Bondage kink b/c Finland is always afraid of Sweden."

I'm sorry if this runs unevenly. I wrote this instead of sleeping, so I was mixing present and past tense. After polishing it up, I converted as much as I could into past tense but . . . some bits work better as present tense . . . ugh, grammar!fail. :dies of shame:

Also, I think I shamelessly stole both mithrigil's and fujiwara_san's (and possibly metallic_sweet's) writing styles in doing this. :fails again and dies more: I LOVE YOU BOTH (ALL), SO TAKE IT AS A COMPLIMENT? {FF-Net Note: Um, this was done for LJ, so all writers mentioned are LJ users.}

Beta'd by: (LJ user) one_go_alone

Truth be told, if one asked Tino Väinämöinen (the man the world called Finland) how long he had been fighting, neither he nor his people could answer you. The stories lived in Iceland's sagas, but it could have just as easily been Norway- -either on his own or by Denmark's command, though the Dane had swiped at him too- -Russia or the one who would be Germany that first lashed out at him. Or maybe it had been he at them.

But if it had been Sweden, Tino thought he should remember that event, regardless of what the books of others said was the truth about his past.

However, in a little place inside him, Finland knew that it had more to do with his first clear memory of the stony blond's crusades against his body of people. It shook him, even now, when he thought on it, so how could he have lived through so terrible a spectacle before then and recall it not?

The first time he'd seen the sea-eyed Swede, Berwald Oxenstierna had stood before him like a horned giant, a great-hammer hefted like a bale of grains over his shoulder, looking down on him with intensely glittering eyes. They had both been bloodied then, but Finland knew this was the first time he'd met the Viking- -Could he still be called that?- -before him on the battlefield. But then maybe he had known then, for looking back through time now, his recollection was murky, caught betwixt myth and history uncharted.

A short row, and the lighter nation was overthrown.

History would never tell him when this was, but if books were to be believed, he escaped that day with no heavier wound than his old faith parted from his heart.

Finland counted time by the scars. And the nights he woke in his empty house, haunted by luminescent jade.

(No, not haunted- -watched, hunted. The man was outside his door, always trying to get into his warmth! But no, that was silly, he could have ravished his body's farmlands already if he was there. It was a trick of thought and shadow, nothing more, nothing less. Back to sleep, back to sleep and thinking no more on such things.)

When the thirteenth century of scars was on him, Finland met Sweden in battle again, and that time there was no retreating from the minor titan. In the end he alone was bloody and bound, and carried off like a prize- -A Jewel! To be thought of like a womanly ornament!- -to the home of the Swedes.

An awfully large home. . .

But then he was in the arms of a large awful brute, so it fit his captor like the hangman's noose.

And all this time Berwald had said nothing, only looked and looked and not looked when he knew Finland looked, and then looked back again with the same stony face and- -

Don't look in his eyes, don't look at them, turn away, turn away and keep your pride!

The sea-eyed giant had Tino's rope circled wrists looped over his neck, his own right arm supporting the Finn's mid-back, the left hooked under the knees. The Swede nodded a lot to his men, grunting more than answering in any sensible tongue. Finland didn't care to listen, working more on how to get out from where he was, and where he would be if Berwald should actually take him inside. Sweden had his back to the lodge's door, but his people- -No, just that one. Is that his boss? I don't see- -

The human had made a motion with his hand and all gathered there began to disperse. Sweden waited until there was no one left to see, before he opened the door of his house with his heel.

And so he bore Finland over the threshold, into his new life.

Finland, for his part, was most surprised, and thought the lot of a conquered nation would be harder. But, as the fates played out, Berwald had taken pains to nurse him back to health- -in his strange, quietly awkward (scary), way. Before he knew it, it was Finland's job to mind the house when the Swede was out, doing whatever Swedish things Sweden did to pass his days.

And so he cleaned, and made things orderly. He tended the little garden around the house, fished when the weather allowed for it- -he did not cook though, for Sweden had learned the hard way that the Finnish diet did not suit his palate. Together they made a cozy- -Is this happiness? Am I happy? I'm not fighting anyone anymore, and that's nice. Su . . . Sweden does keep Russia away, so that's something, right? But . . . if he can scare Russia- -and then he'd have to stop his thoughts or Berwald would wonder why he was shivering, and there was no need to waste firewood heedlessly.

Even if the sea-eyed blond would never hesitate to throw log after log into the fire at his every slight shudder.

Even if the Viking-blooded nation found ways to come back from the ends of the Earth before supper time each day, so Tino never had to worry for dinner, being served by those stoic hands.

Even if there were only rumors of other nations prowling around the outskirts of his lands, seeking a way in, and Sweden would rush home with all speed, and then never leave the Finnish man's side as he stood sentinel for dangers both feigned and deadly real.

Even if the Northern Lion never roared at him- -Purred, maybe- -his dark-jade thoughts would whisper, and then he'd have to stop them too, or he'd shiver for the heat.

Though some of his history escaped him- -and really, for the longer lived of their kind, some history escapes them all, and lives better in the land of dreams for it- -Finland knew that 'it' started with touches. Little sweeps of fingers over the back of his hand, or wrist, or arm, or shoulder, or anything that wasn't too odd a place for people to brush against each other when they worked in tight spaces together, like the kitchen.

He still couldn't help but jump each time.

And Su-san never smiled, so he at least wasn't laughing at his expense. Hmm, maybe all that extra length of body made him unwieldy? Couldn't even control where his own hands went. Poor clumsy mooncalf. His sweet fool. And Tino would turn again and go back to preparing the meal's ingredients, because he was expected to do that much.

But there were starting to be other places where they brushed together, and times when Berwald's sea-shining eyes would linger on his skin even when the slighter male saw him drop his gaze. And then Finland would have to turn away his indigo eyes and pretend the heat of his checks was just the hearth shooing away the chill of weather.

It was becoming harder to share a bed with him. He couldn't sleep as soundly when the other was nearby, because then jade was looking over him, not just in his mind, over his pale little body, and it was enough to drive him out of wits and- -

Sweden would stand, quiet as the dead, and walk out of the room, resting himself some place further off on a heap of skins and furs.

And Tino would sigh.

Even their daily actions were a performance now, a dance they had perfected so that they wouldn't have to think about what they were doing, what was really happening.

Or Maybe Su-san didn't think about it, maybe it was all just him, maybe Sweden was only uncomfortable because he was making Berwald uncomfortable- -but how could he be comfortable when the other was so different and scary and tall and didn't like the things he cooked, and didn't let him go back to his own house and didn't let him go out hunting or even alone when he fished but had some of his men watching after him and- - -

No, when he really thought about it with a calm mind, Sweden had to be bothered by something too.

Eventually, Sweden grew tired of the 'non'-dance. But only by parts.

The lion's first misstep came on a morning when he was simply watching the other work. Tino's hands were nimbly gutting and scaling the morning's catch- -chased out of bed again, he made something of his time- -and Berwald was content to watch how fast they'd fly.

The indigo eyed nation was on the fifth herring before he actually registered that the Swede was standing close to him. Tino turned to ask what he wanted, tilting his head up, but Berwald had noticed the action, and turned his body with his face looking down.

Feathery light, and electricity sparked between them.

Sweden had just stolen and lost their first kisses.

And Finland couldn't quite seem to negotiate the concept of pulling away.

But someone did, eventually, or they both did, or maybe it was more of a jumpy jerk than a leaning back.

History was never useful at recording those kinds of things anyway.

But Tino knew that there would be more touches after that, just as he knew he was too far away from the hearth in the den to warm him so much.

He was right. There were more touches and more kisses too. And all of them were hesitant. Finland thought of the pretty new faith nestled against his heart and wondered if this was the kind of wonderment that fills the lamb when the lion bows to it. For all his stony silence- -Maybe this is the truth, not intimidation, just . . . not knowing what to do.

Gradually, Tino did not jump as much when Berwald rested a hand on his shoulder. Bit by bit Berwald's actions smoothed out each time he dipped down to press an all too chaste kiss to the other's temple. Night by night, Tino allowed Sweden to draw him a little closer to his broad chest when they laid down for sleep. And in those nights the Finn steeled his body, and willed himself to believe that as scary as the other was, he would do nothing more than wrap his arms about his waist.

The day proceeding the night that all things between them changed was normal enough, if only Berwald seemed more flushed than usual and did not stir out of doors. But ever industrious, Finland simply went about his house-ly chores and directed the Swede as he needed.

It was all and all a day unmarked by history.

Going to bed Tino did sigh happily, for the company of the other had made his work light, and Su-san had even made his favorite dishes from home! So he had reason to be jolly, being ready to slip into a warm soft bed after such a softly used day.

Berwald was on the bed.

Berwald was on the bed and hanging his head in thought, in his sleep-wear, but not looking to move.

Tino blinked a few times before asking what the matter was.

And Sweden grunted out something that meant nothing, before scratching behind his head, and looking up a little, before his face flushed and he looked down again. (Because really, what did he have to blush about? Couldn't be a blush if it was anything.)

Finland asked again, even as he crept closer.

Sweden sighed, and reached out to hook a large hand on the Finn's jutting hip. He hesitated before pulling him closer, but not pulling him down to sit in his lap.

Tino repeated the question, and Berwald opened and shut his mouth a few times.

This did not amuse the indigo boy. If anything, he made Finland want to hit him over the side of his wheat-colored head with a pillow! He must have huffed because Sweden looked up at the sounds, eyes a little wide at the glare and- -

"W're mar'd, rit'?" [We're married, right?]

"Wha . . What do you mean married! I never- -"

"We'liv'get'er." [We live together.]

"So? That's what family does!"

"So'es fam'i'y? How?" [So we is family? How?]

Tino did not quite know what to answer with.

The next rush of noise from Berwald sounded even more jumbled than usual, and the Finn had to force the other nation to repeat himself slowly, and even to enunciate just to be sure he understood what he was really being asked.

"Le' wi' meh?" [Lay with me?] And by the crimson rising in his checks, Finland knew he meant for more than sleep.

But the old fear had never really died, and he shook from head to toe at the thought of being in such a vulnerable position with the other.

The Swede saw this, and his expression started to turn melancholy. Then in a flash the light returned to his eyes, and he was up and looking for something that he had known would come in handy again. When he returned, Finland was yet standing stock-still, looking at the bed like it was the jaws of a devil-beast come to carry him off to the land of the dead.

"'Ere." And he dangled an old length of rope before indigo eyes.

Finland blinked. "You . . . want to use that- -those on me? Again?" Because they were the same knots, the same knots he had worn when he was first bound to this house.

"No." Berwald swallowed once, and blushed as he sat back on the bed. "Fer' meh." And he griped a slat of the headboard with either hand.

Tino almost, almost, almost dropped the tethers. The Swede was willing to- -was going to let him- -he could run if he wanted, run and never- -kill the Swede and take his lands for himself- -do anything, EVERYTHING, that came to mind in that situation, so why was the other- - . . .

Berwald . . . Berwald actually trusted him.

The Finnish man blushed from shame, and looked away. "You . . . you should undress first, or it'll be difficult on both of us."

Su-san smiled softly- -a true honest to goodness smile that was so much more than the faint upturning of the corners of his lips, stretching up into his eyes- -before jumping up and stripping himself in short order.

Tino turned redder still. Maybe he would keep his shirt on? Oh Lord above, what had he agreed to?

Sweden was down on the bed again, hands back in place and looking up with warm and hopeful eyes. Finland nodded to himself, and leaned over the other to bind him in place.

Berwald kissed his tummy through his shirt. The indigo eyed nation did not flinch. Much. But he squeaked loud enough. For the other's laughter, the Finn was merciless in tightening the bonds and when he was done, he looked down with a smirk and asked, "I'm binding your feet too, right?"

The Swede had grown solemn at that. "I'h ya wa't." [If you want.]

To hide his blush, Tino went to fetch more rope and when he returned didn't look at the other as he tied down his feet.

Sadly, that was when he noticed that he was overdressed for the occasion, and . . . he didn't have the best idea of what to do next.

"So, uh, w-what do I do?"

Su-san was able to move his fingers enough to point. Which he did, at all of Finland's clothes. "Off."

Simple enough. Tino started to strip, the giddy flutter of butterflies rising in his belly. Now it was the bound warrior who blushed anew, laying eyes on what he was about to claim. At least his little conquer was interested. (And even he, the reluctant 'wife' seemed interested in this coming challenge, despite himself.)

Now freshly nude, the golden haired male made to sit on the other's lap before Sweden cried, "Wa't!" [Wait!] Both paused before he pointed to the chest by the foot of the bed. "Bod'le." [Bottle] He was answered with another blink. "Fer da pa'n," [For the pain.] he intoned softly.

The Finn made to retrieve it, and rooting around could only find one kind of container that he'd call more of a flask, but then he wasn't the one who knew what he was doing. Picking it up Tino moved back over to sit by Su-san, with the expectation that the Swede was going to damn well tell him everything about . . . everything. Ah, even his mind couldn't bring itself to think it!

With soft chuckles, and fewer words, the sea-bright man directed his to-be lover in the matter of applying the oil to both of them. (Finland had thought about asking what kind of oil it was, but decided that where knowledge would disrupt the sport, mystery would heighten the mood. And keep his stomach from turning, but that was just a small and irrational part in his mind.)

Working over the giant proved . . . invigorating for his own self, and the Finn's blush was no longer quite so innocent. Sweden raised his hips now and then, and in all respects tried to facilitate his unknowing life-mate. Eventually, the lion stood his full height, and there was no more work that could be done for him. So the Finnish male made a show of himself under the guidance of his sea-stained ruler.

(Lithe fingers dipping into smooth warmth, and pink tongue peeking out from between rosy lips; eyes twisted shut in concentration, and the body under him rocking in sympathy, for it was in nothing else.)

When Berwald was at his wit's end, he murmured for the other to stop, and to- -bluntly- -climb aboard. Tino capped the flask and set in on the chest he'd taken it from before turning to crawl over the other. He was still scared, no other reason why he would be doing this if he wasn't still a little scared, right? He settled himself above . . . well Su-san- -straddling the wider set of hips as he leaned forward on his shins, pressing a tentative kiss to parched lips.

A throaty chuckle, "'Il'ya si'do'n?" [Will you sit down?]

Another deep blush that made his whole body flame, and the nation slowly eased himself back onto the tip- -Ah! J-just the presence, the pressure of it there felt so strange!- -Su-san sighed again, thighs trembling to keep from spiking himself up, ropes or no. Finland hummed, and- -Oh Lord, he was doing this!- -eased himself slowly back and down, taking in the once Viking by the millimeter, until at last there was the dull sound of flesh against flesh, and Tino found himself sitting again.




He was warm, and very full, and this wasn't nearly as unpleasant as he thought it should be- -not that he would tell Su-san that, nope, let him suffer for, um, being Su-san, yeah!- -really he could maybe get used to doing this if he got to tie the other up each time. Then he began to wiggle and adjust himself, and the Swede groaned and bit his lip, body tight and trembling so hard beneath the little Finn that it could only be a wonder if he didn't notice. He did notice this, however, and resettled himself before the lion broke the bonds that held him in check.

"C'm'ere." [Come here.] He demanded breathily, urging Tino to sit up again and kiss him more. Senseless, Su-san was trying to kiss him senseless and it was working very well, all things considered. He wiggled again, before- -he had no idea why he wanted to, instinct just told him that he did- -drawing himself up a little, and then sliding back down.- -Okay, he needed to listen to his instincts more often, because that actually felt nice, and he was really considering how often he'd want to do this again.

Sweden groaned into the kiss, and rolled his hips up to match Tino's gait. The Finn had to break away for air, but oh!- -Oh, he really needed the other to do that some more- -He shifted his grip on the Swede's shoulders before rocking into him again, harder this time, maybe even faster, but he wasn't yet sure on that. The taller man tipped his head back and keened in his throat, trying to again oblige his lover without hurting him.

His passions flaring, Tino threw his sweat-slicked arms about his sea-eyed partner, using him as both anchor and leverage as he did strive to ride the robust Swede for all that he was worth and more, lips pressing to lips and cheek and throat, trailing down to collarbone and latching onto a firm shoulder as he trembled and shuddered and quivered inside from the feeling, the intensity of this mad rushing dance.

And Berwald was only all too happy to give him everything he had. Even with his legs bound down, his thrusts came hard and fast, and soon the light Finn wasn't just panting, wasn't just mewling, but was crying and howling wantonly for Sweden to bounce him harder against himself. Finland clung to him, almost sobbing from need and joy, begging in a mix of tongues for sweet relief from the fire burning him from inside- -This raw heat, how had he done this to him? Addicting sun that could even cause the moon to follow- -

One hard jab had the lithe one emptying his lungs of every drop of air they held. Another- -and this one he at least tried to meet- -and he was convulsing, head whipping back and forth as pleasure shook him to the core. The Swede stretched his neck, catching loose lips with his, and making the other muffle his cries against him, still as he rocked the other over the edge of sweet oblivion. His body tight around the tamed lion, with one last jerk of his form, emptied in a cascading torrent, and moments latter was answered by the welling of a running stream inside him.

Tino's eyes fluttered open, to see himself splattered against Berwald's torso. Oh . . . that, ah, well, okay. . . They'd both need to clean up then- -Even if he felt even warmer and more content now than when they started. Hnn, yes, this was something he'd have to do again. But for now, he just wanted to be held like this on their be- - - - - - -

Berwald's hands were supposed to be bound. Tino looked up and saw . . . the knots he'd tied had all come undone. Actually, from the looks of how far they'd slipped down Sweden's arms, they had been undone for some time now. Casting a glance over his shoulder, even the foot-binds were loose.

Finland clutched to the man he was resting on. He could have overpowered him at any time. . . Indigo eyes flicked upward to meet smoky-jade. "Why? You could . . ." well he wasn't sure, but Sweden could have done it.

Instead the man blushed a little, and ducked his head to the side with a mumbled response that Finland again had to force out of him.

"I luf' ya'n din'a wan'a s'ar' ya." [I love you, and didn't wanna scare you.]

The Finn blushed again, "You . . . you love me?" Hadn't this been- -"For how long?"- -Big scary Su-san loved him?- -

The Northern Lion slowly picked his gaze back up, and his eyes shone with the volatile mirth that his people's Viking ancestors were known for.

"Sin' 'a'fore bo'ks." [Since before books.]

Before books . . . before history . . . he'd loved him time out of legend.

(Wait, did that mean all those nights that he'd woken up thinking that he'd only imagined Su-san there- -Oh, now wasn't the time for that! He wanted more cuddles from the Swede, and thinking had no place with cuddling.)

Instead Finland smiled a little, and kissed the edge of Sweden's chin. The other smiled back, before rolling them over the width of the bed and Tino then found himself on his back with Berwald ready to show him a few more things about love that night.

I used Wikipedia for the little info it had.

Finnish wars: http : / / en . wikipedia . org / wiki / Early_Finnish_wars

Swedish Crusade 1: http : / / en . wikipedia . org / wiki / First_Swedish_Crusade

Swedish Crusade 2: http : / / en . wikipedia . org / wiki / Second_Swedish_Crusade


DX Please excuse my logic!fail about Sweden's climate. I had perpetual winter in my head for no good reason. And I also had no idea what kind of wildlife lives there, but if Sweden was a Viking nation, there there was dang well fishing and farming and hunting.

Commenting/Discussing/Critiquing(/[ANY]gasming/ego-feeding/) is welcomed, encuraged, and damn well expected, so I can stop being a great-big-pile-O-fail with this fandom.

And yes, fanart is loved, and loved hard. Because if Sweden had a frikin' great-hammer, Finland would have had an insane longbow.

I hope that wherever the requester is, they get to read this and loved it.


Yay culture!fail. So, yeah, it should actually be Sweden being all manly and cleaning the fishies, not Finland. Please to ignore for plot purposes? That said, feel free to point out any mistakes other readers haven't poked me about yet! I must improve . . . .